Over the following days, I fall into a steady rhythm. Wake up, go to class, have dinner with Lexi, then study. It’s nice to have her companionship, but I find it distracting living with her, and it’s difficult to focus in the evenings. She’s always cranking up her tunes, practicing her dancing. And… she and Shane spend a lot of time together. This place is nice, but not nice enough to drown out the muffled sounds of their lovemaking, pulling my mind from my textbooks.
I try noise canceling headphones. I try a white noise machine, I even try loud music.
It’s no use.
And I miss my cat.
Sighhh.
By Thursday evening, I’m homesick, but for what, I’m not sure. This place is twice as nice as my old apartment, but it’s not home. I pick up the phone to check on the cat, even though I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t.
Hey how’re Mr. Whiskers and Baskins getting along?
He immediately replies back with a picture message. It’s Mr. Whiskers and Baskins on his couch, only since I left, the gap has closed. Those two are cuddled up butt to butt on his sofa. It’s adorable.
And it rips my heart from my chest.
If our pets are happy together, why shouldn’t we be happy together? I type back a response.
Can I come over
I miss you
I delete the texts before I can send them, turning off my phone for the night.
The week passes. The weekend comes and I’m determined to start that new life I promised myself, to have some fun. I go to Lexi’s show, sitting between Miranda and her husband. Watch Lexi shake her ass, all dolled up in silver sparkles and tail feathers. She’s fantastic, and I’m so proud of my friend I clap until my palms sting. We go out to eat afterward, dining at the restaurant on the top floor of Vegas, Baby, called Opulence. Even though I have the steak and shrimp, somehow it tastes like sawdust in my mouth. Shane picks up the check, kissing Lexi full on the mouth, telling her, “You looked beautiful up there, babygirl.”
And my heart catches in my throat.
Sunday morning comes, and I find I can’t get out of my bed. As a health professional, I’d diagnose myself with depression. Maybe even prescribe some short term antidepressants.
But as a woman, I know what I’m suffering from.
A broken heart.
I don’t care if it was only two nights.
I don’t care if he...paid me.
There was a connection there I can’t deny. And honestly? I’m hurt he hasn’t tried to pursue me.
And it can’t be fixed with pills.
I lie in my bed, watching funny cat videos on my phone. An hour passes. I find a new favorite, two gray tabby kittens giving one another a bath, when my phone rings.
It’s him.
My thumb hovers over the answer button. Do I preserve what’s left of my heart and silence the call? Or risk everything and pick it up?
I hit the green button, answering the phone.
I paste a smile on my face, trying to brighten my voice. “Hey, Rawley.”
“Hey.”
There’s a pregnant pause, making me wonder if he’s misdialed and unsure how to tell me he’d not meant to call me. My mind goes to my cat. “Is everything okay?”
He clears his throat. “There’s a…problem.”
“Huh? What is it? What’s going on?”
“You see, it’s this damn cat. He’s been acting weird since you left. He’s up all hours of the night, meowing. He can’t sleep, he can’t eat. I uh…I think he’s missing you.”
“Mr. Whiskers, not eat?” I don’t think so.
Is someone else missing me?
Is he missing me just as much as I’m missing him?
Or is that just wishful thinking?
He gives a little cough. “It’s just that, he’s...I mean, your cat...he hasn’t been the same since you left.”
My throat feels tight. “Is that so?”
“It is most decidedly so.”
That pause of silence comes back over the line, full and heavy and bigger than the both of us.
He finally breaks it, his voice thick with emotion. “Come here, babygirl. Come stay with me.”
My heart lurches in my chest. I want to go, but I can’t. What if I go there and he changes his mind? Or leaves another stupid note, breaking my heart all over again?
I don’t respond.
“Just for a few days.”
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
“I just…I can’t risk feeling that way again.”
He heaves a sigh. “I never want to make you feel that way again. I don’t want to lose you, Emmeline. Please, come home.”
Home? That’s a crazy thing to say.
But is it? Who am I kidding? I was in his apartment for less than an hour and I’ve never felt more at home than I did when I was there with him and our pets. But still. We barely know one another. “I need to think about it.”
“Hang on.”
“What?” There’s a ding from my phone and I pull it away from my ear, looking at the screen. He’s just sent a picture through. It’s a selfie of him sitting on his couch, looking sexy as hell, fresh out of the shower wearing gray sweats and a white tee. Baskins is curled up against his thigh, and on his lap is Mr. Whiskers, curled in a ball, Rawley’s free hand scratching under his chin.